Stick in the Mud
by LookAboveYou
Summary: It's winter, and his leg hurts. It's been two years, and the familiar chill of feeling useless is creeping up his spine. But a curious present helps him to realize that we must first get out of the mud before we can do anything.


**Okay, so this was based on personal experience. I hurt my knee several years ago, and I now have my own weather predictor. And I'm only the young age that I am. So, all that Hiccup goes through is what I have. Hate to do it to my favorite character, but it's just yet another thing that makes us so alike.**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I asked for Toothless for Christmas again so, we'll see. Until then, I don't own anything.**

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He gave his coat another desperate tug to keep his body warmth in and the cold out. Evaporated water poured from his mouth as he muttered under his breath about the climate. The stubborn young man wouldn't move anywhere else, but that didn't mean he wouldn't consider the winters here on Berk just pure brutal. When the first signs of winter came upon them, he moaned out of what was to come: fingers that would always be cold, arms that would always be cold, and a nose that would always be cold. Needless to say, his whole existence would _always_ be cold the entire season. Although contrary to past years, these weren't the only things on his mind as he trudged through the snow.

His leg, or, what was left of it rather. It would now always hurt all winter.

Vikings consider the scars and missing limbs you get from battle an achievement. Hiccup merely saw it as the accident that it was. But through this second winter since the friendship between Vikings and dragons was sealed, he realized the true handicap that it was.

He couldn't sleep at night. Just as his mind would swim into the deeper waters of sleep, a knife would stab his knee. His eyes opened to find no one in the room as a corporate and no knives. In a sleepy haze of confusion, he laid back down. Then there it was again. That sharp point of pain driving into his knee and up his thigh. He gripped the pillow and winced as he tried to ride it through. His mind spun as he desperately tried to think of something else, but the pain had poisoned his thinking. His teeth clenched as another wave coursed through his body, and he quickly sat up to massage the knee. This only made it worse, so he rocked back and forth in attempt to ward off the scream behind his teeth. Sweat dripped from his forehead and chills racked his bones. A moan managed to escape, but he bit his lip and hugged his torso tightly. Hiccup refused to let anyone know. He would not let his petty cries reach the ears of his father, Stoic. Too much was expected of him to be found whirling around on his bed about a mere part of his leg missing. He collapsed sprawled out on his back, whimpering softly. Exhaustion would soon track down sleep, drag it back, and force it to take over the boy. But until then, Hiccup breathed in and out, slowly and purposefully.

He couldn't train as fast as he would like himself to. Slowing down from the hunting party, Hiccup watched as Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Astrid snaked away further. When they were out of sight, he stopped in his tracks and heaved. His pride was hacked at as he threw up every bit of the breakfast he had left in him. Once finished, he stood straight up and stretched his neck back, taking a big breath. Stupid leg. If he forced himself to work it to the point that it hurt, there was no going back. It would not stop hurting until he stopped running, and if he continued running it would end up like this- him puking his brains out. But he wiped his mouth and started trotting, keeping a devoted effort to keep up. He would not let his friends see him like that. He soon saw the form of Ruffnut running a few yards ahead. His motivation spiked, and he sped up a little… Only to stop just short of Ruffnut and fight his urges long enough to let them out of sight before he threw up again. They would think he was just slow. But it was better than them knowing this.

He could hardly walk around the village anymore. Being the center of their civilization and right by the sea, there was lots of frozen water. Meaning, lots of ice. Hiccup cringed when he saw Astrid's mother fling out the bucket of dishwater over the porch as he passed by. He most likely would be slipping on it sometime the next day. With careful precision, he walked up the steps to the Mead Hall, swearing that there weren't as many steps now as there were before he lost his lower leg. The tricky part was balancing his weight on the prosthetic as he swung his good leg over to land on the next step up. The rest was easy, but the first half took the longest to get used to feeling. Still fairly new to it all, it threw Hiccup off every time he began his flight up. However, he was doing pretty good that day, and had managed to get a quarter up the stairs without tripping. Progress had been made. A small smile grew as he balanced for the next step. But the boy had overlooked the patch of ice just big enough to do the damage. His prosthetic slipped, and down he went. The back of his head hit the ground and blackness engulfed his world. A wet tongue made him open his eyes to meet Toothless'. Gingerly, he scrambled up, grateful no one had seen. But the pain escalated, the weight of his body having caused the bones in his bad leg to gnaw on each other when he slipped. Irritation flushed his cheeks, and he stubbornly took to the stairs again, going one step at a time as before.

He couldn't enjoy simple things. One night while gazing at the stars with Astrid, Hiccup tried to ignore the throb that threatened his joy of the moment. The sky was so clear they could spot constellations and planets in seconds as they lay on their backs looking up. Hiccup's head turned as he looked to Astrid. Her blonde locks dripped from her head, tossing and turning as the wind played with them. Her eyes sparkled with delight at finding Leo, and suddenly they met his. With trained will, he forced himself not to let his shyness break the tender flow between them. Instead, his eyes revealed his heart as his muscles grew tight with restraint. Astrid lightly chuckled, "It's okay." And for reassurance, she leaned in closer to him. His hand immediately cupped her cheek, and he pulled her lips to his. The grimace caused them to break apart, the pain being awakened in his leg from his moving around. Upon remembering, he cursed lightly and stood up. Astrid got up as well, confused, and tried to convince him to tell her what was wrong. But he simply smiled halfway and made way into the woods. Once in the protective covering of the walls in his bedroom, he removed the prosthetic with a hiss and roared out of pain into his pillow.

In the forge, he couldn't concentrate. Instead of on his work, his eyes focused on the peg of a leg that served as part of Gobber's own appendage. They followed it as he moved from the work table, to the wall, to the fire pit, back to the work table. Anger pulsed in his eyes. Gobber seemed to move around with no hesitation. He picked up his hammer and brought it down hard on the blade of a sword he was crafting. The thread of anger gave strength to his arm as he pounded again and again on the blasted thing.

Hiccup was always considered to be out of place. It was as if he was supposed to be from another time, but somebody goofed up and plopped him in this day and age. And culture. Of all cultures, the Vikings, who are big, strong, and fearless… exactly opposite from himself. It took double the effort to make anyone proud. It took triple the patience to hide his feelings. It took days for him to get over a raid, whereas everyone else shoved mud over their scratches and started building the town again. Even in the epic battle of fighting the big scary dragon he managed to screw up. He was missing half of his _leg_. A familiar sense of feeling useless crept up his spine.

It ached, it throbbed, it bothered him like it would no one else. It interfered with everything he set to do, and nothing that was expected of him was accomplished the way it should be. Once again, he was paying a price for being himself.

An unfamiliar thud brought his thoughts back to reality. He blinked in surprise as he saw that the blade he had been hammering was split in two. His head snapped up to face Gobber, who stood there, mouth agape. Once again, another thing he managed to mess up, due to the thoughts of his stupid leg.

A fierce yell erupted from his lungs as slammed his fist on the table, then pushed it with all his strength until it toppled over. The parts of the sword clanged in their ears as it hit the ground, and the fire snapped in the background. Panting, Hiccup kicked the table with his good leg and walked toward the door.

"Hiccup?" Gobber hoarsely whispered. Ignored, he tried again, "Laddie, what's eatin' ya?"

His answer was a slam of the door.

Gripping onto the precious amount of body heat he had, he stumbled into the forest, muttering about the cold and dreading the winters to come. Toothless bounded up behind him, very aware of his friend's mood. He cooed with wide eyes as he examined Hiccup's face, sniffing and cocking his head. Hiccup looked away from Toothless and continued walking. Toothless snorted and blocked his way again, determined that he would not let him go until Hiccup decided to spill the beans. But Hiccup ducked his head and went around him as wide as he could. Toothless' countenance fell and he became a statue.

Hiccup inwardly grumbled at the knack dragons had for being annoying at times. He needed a moment alone to think, and for Thor's sake, to get over this. Such intentions were met with a mouthful of snow.

Toothless heard Hiccup's fall and darted toward him. Hiccup appeared now thankful for his presence, and he slung his arm over his head. But while trying to stand up, a curdled cry snaked its way through Hiccup's lips. Toothless just gave Hiccup a look.

"I know, I know, bud…" Hiccup trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"Sorry fer what?"

The deep voice started Hiccup. "Wh-what? Wh-who- oh. Dad. Hey Dad."

Stoic the Vast sat on a fallen tree log with a large knife and a long stick in hand. "Hiccup."

Hiccup wobbled over to the tree and sat beside his father. Tracing back his previous thoughts, he picked apart his senses to try and remember how much had he spoken aloud. Satisfied that none of it was, he tried to slump back into his current anger. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned his focus on the knife Stoic had. Gently and deliberately he whittled away the splinters, breathing in and out as calmly as a lamb. Hiccup smirked at such a parallel.

"So… what were ye frettin' about?"

Hiccup's head hung. He knew he would ask it sooner or later. Most likely later, but still. "Nothing."

The sound of the knife shaving the wood continued.

The lack of response herded Hiccup into a corner. He took a couple breaths and shut his mouth, trying to escape.

"Ye do know who ye git yer stubbornness from, right?"

Hiccup's brow raised and he turned to stare at his father.

"So…. Spit it out. Ye know I'm prepared to sit 'ere all night." He spoke smoothly, just as he would if he were discussing the weather.

The anger Hiccup had so venomously coursing through his veins in the forge felt increasingly thin now, so much so that he couldn't muster up enough to spat out a complaint. Suddenly sheepish, he shivered and mumbled into his sleeve as he wiped his nose.

"Ye know ye have ta do better 'an that." The knife stopped as the chief eyeballed his son.

Hiccup sighed. He wasn't used to this, his father wanting him to talk. The old days of when he would say a full two words a day to Stoic filtered through his mind. Immediately he shook it out of his head. He wouldn't go back to those days for anything. Toothless crawled up to Hiccup's feet and poured pleas into his eyes. He ever so gently nudged Hiccup's prosthetic and whined. Hiccup winced and held his breath as he fought the barriers from his heart to his voice. So many walls penetrated that passage.

"My leg."

Slightly surprised, Stoic paused a brief second. "Yer leg?"

Hiccup closed his eyes and held back. Another nudge from Toothless made him open his eyes again. "Yes my leg. It…. It…. It hurts. Because it's so cold outside."

He inwardly kicked himself and turned away. That was so lame. His father finally wants him to be open, and all he has to offer is how bad his leg hurts. He tightened his furs around his body and scooted closer to the edge of the log, counting down the ten seconds he would then leave if there was no response.

Suddenly, Stoic clawed a huge chunk of wood out towards the end of the stick, it landing with a gentle thud. Hiccup's interest reached its peak, instantly mesmerized.

"Son, yer harder ta get ta talkin' than it is to get meat on yer bones."

"I get it from you, ya know," Hiccup replied, a slight edge in his tone.

Stoic was silent.

Hiccup huffed. "See? Proves my point. Ya know, I don't think I can still ever do anything right. And this stupid leg doesn't help much."

The knife rounded a curve over the end of the stick.

"I never really was good enough. But now with a missing part of my leg, still how will I ever be?"

The long end of the stick started to shape narrower and smooth.

"I couldn't do stuff right before I lost my leg. Now I still can't do stuff right! Sure, everyone overlooks it because I'm a 'hero', so they say. But they don't see it. You all don't see behind the scenes. I'm still the same pathetic toothpick just barely getting by. And now it's worse. I can't sleep, I can't walk up stairs, I can't even enjoy a simple evening with Astrid! I can't do anything the way I want to anymore, and it's still never enough. "

The entire piece of wood began to smooth out.

"And now…" Hiccup's breath hitched. "And now…. I feel that it's catchin' up to me. This winter cold has only made it more apparent. It's only a matter of time." He looked down into the round eyes of his dragon. "It's been two years since it happened. You'd think by now I could handle it and be used to it. It's just different this year. And-and I'm sick of temporary fixes. I just want to feel useful. BE ..useful…. If I only still had my leg, I'd-"

In one swift motion, Stoic thrust the stick into the ground right in front of Hiccup, cutting off his sentence. Hiccup flinched out of instinct and held his brace in waiting for impact. Steadily, Stoick lowered Hiccup's hands from his face and looked him in the eyes.

"This doesn't matter," he said, pointing to the prosthetic. With his massive fingers, he then touched Hiccup's forehead. "This matters." And he tapped Hiccup's chest. "And this matters."

Without breaking eye contact, Stoic rose and put his knife back into its sheath. He then set back his shoulders and walked away with a mighty stance, majestic and royal. Hiccup watched him until the woods blocked him from sight. His attention was then turned to the stick.

It was no longer a stick. It was a cane. A solid oak, smooth, beautiful cane. Hiccup got down from the log and stood next to it, slowly grabbing onto the curved handle with his hand. It smelled fresh and still felt warm from his father's hands. He tugged on it to get it out, but it didn't budge. Again, he pulled and pulled, but it didn't move.

"Great. Yeah, just great. Y-Ya know, Dad, you knew I wouldn't be able to get this out!" he called out in the direction Stoic had left in.

Upon no expected returns by Stoic, he flicked the wood with his fingers and sat down again. His eyes poured over the cane, analyzing and constructing in his head what it might be for. Of all things, his Chief of a father had sat down and devoted time to crafting such an unpopular and unusual thing. Then, he suddenly pierced its point into the ground. It seemed so pointless. What use was a cane if it was stuck in the mud?

Toothless just stared at Hiccup.

Suddenly, Hiccup's face lit up and he grabbed ahold of it. With a heave that involved all of his strength, Hiccup yanked up and out came the cane. Having fallen to the ground, he laid it in his lap to examine it. Then, with a sturdy hand, he placed it right side up firmly on the ground, climbed his way up from the ground, and stood.

His hand smoothed the handle of the cane as he walked around on those restless nights. Mud was plastered to the sides of it as he hid behind a line of bushes with the rest of the hunting party. Her hand enveloped the hand holding it as Astrid and he strolled through the empty night. All of his weight leaned into it as he crept up the stairs to the Mead Hall.

Hiccup used that cane all that winter. It became very useful, as all canes always are. So long as the stick is no longer in the mud.

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**Hm… not quite sure how I like this one. It was more of an experiment. But it's not me, it's your opinion that I value. **

**Please review! It'll make my day. **


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